


rest my head on your shoulder (don't want to push you away)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Assault, positive ending i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: While on tour and thousands of miles away from her girlfriend, Beca undergoes a traumatic experience. The road to healing is a long and winding path.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 39
Kudos: 213





	rest my head on your shoulder (don't want to push you away)

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really heavy topic and I can only hope I did some of it justice. I don't claim to represent all voices or even a majority of voices—everybody's experience with sexual violence and sexual assault will not be the same and a victim's road to healing will be different as well. 
> 
> Please consult appropriate resources if necessary and also please, **please do not continue reading if references to a sexual assault will be triggering for you.**
> 
> Title from "Arrival" by EXES.

_“If you can’t handle this, Beca, it’s okay to ask for a break. You don’t owe anybody anything. Nobody except yourself.”_

_Beca thinks that Chloe might have a point, but she can’t help but think about all the people she’d let down. Her fans. The label. Her sound engineers. Theo, even. The list goes on._

_And then there’s Chloe herself._

_“Yeah?” Beca asks._

_Chloe nods, closing her textbook for the moment so she can focus on Beca. “Of course. You know all of this will still be here. You’re Beca Mitchell. I know you’ll be able to bounce back from anything. I hate seeing you stressed.”_

_Beca smiles—the first genuine smile in a while—and sighs with relief. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t pick a school out here.”_

_“I probably wouldn’t be over at your apartment all the time.”_

_Beca laughs. “I would be incredibly sad without you.”_

_Oops. She blushes, not wanting to see the curious look on Chloe’s face. It is getting harder and harder to repress her very real feelings for Chloe._

_(But something tells Beca that Chloe absolutely wouldn’t mind.)_

* * * * *

“Shit,” Beca mumbles, shutting her hotel room door with a resounding click. The time on her phone glares back at her accusingly, too reminiscent of clear blue eyes filled with hurt and pain, even with the blurriness clouding her eyes. She steadies herself and attempts to convince herself that she is simply tired and overworked, but she cannot deny the ache and burn coursing through her body as a reminder that she had probably overindulged a little bit.

With shaking hands, Beca quickly dials Chloe’s number, trying not to think about the ominous lack of messages from Chloe herself; trying not to think about the ominous lack of a missed call. Chloe’s silence is telling enough.

Beca waits with bated breath, heart hammering against her rib cage as the phone continues to ring in her ear.

She hadn’t meant to stay out so late after her last show—it was just so easy to get swept up in the emotions and the high of performing. That’s the thing though—she’s _sure_ Chloe understands that well enough. They had bonded over their shared love for music, then acapella and performing. It wasn’t like Chloe _didn’t_ understand.

If somebody had told Beca years ago that she would be touring across the U.S. with a band and backup singers, performing in front of thousands of people every night...she would have probably laughed. Or run away.

Life had a funny way of not working out, though.

Working with DJ Khaled for one—that had been unexpected. Moving to Los Angeles had always been a dream of hers. She just kind of expected a few more years in New York.

Of course, apart from the newfound fame, there is Chloe. Chloe and their constantly blossoming relationship. Chloe, who makes Beca the happiest she’s been in a long time. Chloe, who agreed to be her girlfriend just over a year ago before Beca’s fame had really picked up steam and together, they had agreed to work on their relationship. Chloe, who is on the other end of the line, if she would only just—”Pick _up_ ,” Beca rasps under her voice, collapsing heavily onto her hotel bed.

She sits, guilt rushing through her as she thinks about how easily she had let time slip away.

Going on two years now, their relationship had started so tentatively while Chloe had just started veterinary college in Los Angeles. Two years later, they live together comfortably just outside of Los Angeles. Chloe is beginning to wind up her education and work more part-time hours at the local veterinary clinic. Beca is beginning to really see the results of her work with the label and her uptick in fame and popularity.

The arguments have increased as well, Beca’s propensity to staying out late even when she is still in Los Angeles

She hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but she had and now she is dealing with the aftermath of missing yet another phone date with her girlfriend; yet another phone date because they have to deal with the long distance and the timezone differences when applicable and just—

A high-pitched tone sounds through Beca’s phone, signalling Chloe’s lack of response _again_.

Beca grunts in frustration, her arm flopping uselessly to the side. Her phone bounces harmlessly on the mattress, leaving Beca to mull over her thoughts as she slowly drifts off to sleep.

_I’m sorry, Chloe._

* * * * *

_Chloe’s decision to attend vet school in Los Angeles means that her time spent at Beca’s apartment (or even vice versa) is now frequent enough to cause some concern in Beca. She’s just concerned, is all. She doesn’t want to be the reason Chloe flunks out of veterinary school._

_Chloe looks amused if anything when she brings it up. “Are you trying to chase me away? Do you not want me here?” Beca glances up just then to catch the flutter of Chloe’s eyes as she mock-pouts at her. She hates how warm it makes her feel._

_“Of course I want you here,” Beca says stiltedly as she stares into her tragic container of take-out. She wishes she could have at least cooked something for Chloe during her visit. What was she thinking? “I just don’t want to be...a bad influence or whatever.”_

_“You are such a bad influence,” Chloe teases._

_“I’m not trying to be!”_

_“What would your fans think?”_

_“I don’t have that many fans.”_

_“Yet.”_

_Beca glances up at Chloe again, marvelling at her continuous unwavering confidence. Her endless support. Her positivity and general presence in Beca’s life. Her—oh no. Her word vomit is coming up. She can feel it._

_Chloe senses it. Of course she does. “Beca?”_

_Fuck._

_“I love you,” Beca blurts._

_Well, kind of. She kind of whispers it. She kind of mumbles it under her breath. But it doesn’t take away from the sincerity of it all. Beca knows it in her heart to be true; she has known it to be true; she knows it to be true for all time to come._

_She loves Chloe and is in love with her and she’s fucking tired of not being with her._

_That’s just the hard part to articulate._

_Beca holds her breath afterwards, almost too afraid to make any noise that might disturb the silence between them. Chloe pauses, finally taken aback by Beca for once. She pauses, her mouth half-way open, spoon half-way to her half-open mouth._

_And because Beca ultimately doesn’t like to do anything half-assed, she stands on shaky legs, wondering if Chloe will stop her. She stands; she slips around the corner of her tiny kitchen table and presses a kiss to Chloe’s mouth, letting the spoon clatter to the table noisily, neither of them particularly caring about the mess._

_Chloe’s hand winds into her hair, anchoring Beca to her even though Beca has no intention of going anywhere. Not for the foreseeable future._

* * * * *

It is one bad decision after another.

If Beca had to trace it—to really and truly trace it—she’d trace it all the way back to not owning up to her feelings for Chloe right at the beginning. Whether the beginning was the moment she met Chloe Beale or simply just at some point during their years together at Barden...Beca isn’t sure. All she knows is that every moment away from Chloe now is a reminder that she had wasted all that time not _being_ with Chloe and now she’s somehow fucking this up too.

Somehow fucking it up as always, she thinks miserably. A fine combination of both her parents.

The amber liquid in her glass stares back at her innocently.

She downs it quickly, lamenting the uselessness of tiny hotel room bottles of alcohol. All that money and for what reason if she doesn’t spend it recklessly and shamelessly?

Beca stands shakily, moving to her phone once again to check if Chloe has called back. She hates knowing that Chloe is upset with her, but she figures Chloe has every reason to be upset considering the fight they had gotten into just before Beca left for this fucking tour.

_(“Beca, just talk to me,” Chloe pleads. “I know you’re frustrated. I am too. But we’re in this together—”_

_“I don’t want to drag you into this, Chlo,” Beca says immediately. “I’m sorry I have to go on this tour,” she says bitterly._

_“I’m not mad about you going on this tour, I’m mad that we barely talked about it and that you’re just packing up and leaving as if we don’t have an entire life together now.”_

_Beca pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to fight about this.”_

_“I’m not fighting with you,” Chloe says as patiently as she can, but Beca picks up on the strain in her voice._

_“And what about you?” Beca asks. “You’re taking on extra shifts at the clinic, you’re always working at school or volunteering. I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”_

_“Beca, what—?”_

_“I miss you,” Beca blurts. “I miss you, okay? And I find it hard to just...to just adapt to all these changes. I hate that I’m going to be away from you. I hate that we’re having this dumb fight a week before I have to leave.”_

_“If you’d just open up to me more!” Chloe exclaims. “Beca, come on, this is just like senior year all over again! We’ve been together for two and a half years and this is still going on. I’m not going anywhere, but please just take our relationship seriously.”_

_It hits deeper than Beca expects, though she figured Chloe would have that in her back pocket. It only makes sense that Beca would somehow fuck this up._

_Like father like daughter._

_“I’m sorry,” Beca finally mumbles, turning back to where Chloe is standing in the middle of their bedroom. “I’m so sorry.”_

_“I’m sorry too,” Chloe says fairly quickly, but Beca hears how sincere she is. “I didn’t mean to yell.”_

_It is funny to Beca, somewhat. Chloe’s version of yelling is not even the worst thing Beca’s ever heard. She smiles, leaning up to press a kiss to her girlfriend’s lips along with a whisper of a promise to never miss a phone date while they’re apart.)_

“I’m sorry,” she says aloud to her non-responsive phone. Beca decides to try again—to give Chloe another call even though her last few calls had gone unanswered. A quick glance at the time and a brief pause as she contemplates timezones (she has to let her brain quickly catch up in terms of subtracting three hours from her current time), Beca is soon tapping on Chloe’s contact information.

_“Hi, this is Chloe Beale and I can’t—”_

“Fuck,” Beca cries, ending the call. She looks around her room, the small bottles from the minibar lining the counter. Vaguely she notes that the room is beautiful and incredibly swanky. It’s just hard to appreciate it—any of it—when she feels like her entire life is falling apart.

* * * * *

She knows she shouldn’t, but the memory of the hurt in Chloe’s voice is enough to force her out the door, not bothering to knock on Theo’s door as she goes. She doesn’t knock on anybody’s door. She just needs a burst of fresh air and she’ll be okay.

And if Beca ends up in the upscale bar down the street, that’s okay too. She just wants to be alone.

* * * * *

“Why are you alone?”

Beca barely glances up, too exhausted to humor a fan or whoever it is that is choosing to engage with her even though she chose the furthest corner seat to sit by herself.

“I’m not alone,” Beca mumbles.

“You look alone.”

“Don’t be a weirdo.” Beca lifts her drink. “I’m good, thanks.” This time she does allow herself an opportunity to look up at her companion and she is happy to note that she is as uninterested as she knew she would be. His dark hair and dark eyes only make her miss Chloe more.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk. I’m just here for a drink and I’ll be out of your hair.” He flags down the bartender, ignoring Beca’s disgruntled scoff as she refocuses on the surface of the bartop in front of her.

“Good.”

* * * * *

His name is Nick. Or Rick. Beca isn’t sure. He has a decent-enough smile and he ends up just _listening_ to her. It feels nice to be listened to without expectation or pretense. It feels nice to just vent.

“So you have a girlfriend.”

“I do.” Beca squints at him. “Do you know who I am?” The bar is quieter now. It must be late.

“I don’t, but you’ve mentioned your name once or twice.”

“Beca,” Beca enunciates as clearly as she can. She sighs, fumbling to prop her arm up on the counter so she can rest her chin on her hand. “My name is Beca. And my girlfriend’s name is Chloe.”

He laughs again. Beca frowns, wondering if she had said something amusing. Or maybe she fucked up Chloe’s name. “Chloe,” she tries again.

“You’ve mentioned her a lot. Where is she?”

“Home. She’s a vet. Almost.” Beca sighs. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll call you a cab.”

“No. California. Not here. I want to go home.”

“Oh. Well. I can get you back to your hotel.”

Beca’s brow furrows again as his arm comes up to grip her elbow. He smiles at her, light and easy. She glances blearily at the lone, empty glass he has next to him on the counter.

“Is it close?” he asks, drawing her attention back. “I’ll just drop you off.”

“It’s close,” she says slowly. “I think.”

* * * * *

Walking is hard. The first thing Beca thinks is: _Chloe is going to kill me._ The second is: _Theo is going to kill me_. She knows that she has...some responsibilities in the afternoon or morning or evening, even, but it’s hard to think straight when the streetlights are bright and the buildings loom tall and ominous all around them.

For some reason, Beca feels uneasy. She can _see_ the hotel. It’s just ahead. Nick is laughing again, maybe. Always laughing. She isn’t sure if she likes him.

Beca whimpers, tugging her hand loosely out of his grasp as they go. She knows enough that she doesn’t want to hold _his_ hand. Just Chloe’s. Always Chloe’s.

“Can we go see Chloe?” Beca asks. Or at least, she thinks she asks. Words are kind of difficult at the moment. She just wants to see her girlfriend and cuddle in her arms. Chloe always makes her feel safe and protected. Warm.

Chloe makes her feel warm. She would make New York feel warm and welcoming. New York isn’t the same without Chloe.

“Sure,” he chuckles—she barely knows his name, barely remembers if he told her—and he chooses instead to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a firm hold. It makes Beca frown, but she’s too tired to shrug him off completely. “Where is she?” he asks conversationally.

She wonders if somebody had asked her that before. Always asking about her better half. Always asking about Chloe and her. Their relationship.

“Cali...California,” Beca mumbles through a hiccup. She squints ahead. “My hotel is just there...I want to call her.”

“It’s late,” he mumbles back, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “Maybe you can wait until tomorrow.”

“She…” Beca fumbles for words, dragging her feet as she goes. She _misses_ Chloe. She just wants to hear Chloe’s voice. “It’s late,” she echoes.

“It is,” he comments as they enter the hotel lobby. “Kind of late.”

* * * * *

When Beca wakes, she feels ill immediately. It is worse, however, then her usual hangovers. The first thing she does is immediately rush to the toilet to vomit, but it is while she is still kneeling on the cold hotel tile that she realizes that her pants and underwear are missing. She freezes, still clutching the porcelain edges and she lifts her head, attempting to take stock of her surroundings. Truly take stock of her surroundings and her body.

She feels like she might get sick all over again when she catches only flashes of the previous night in her mind’s eye. Nothing coherent or remotely helpful.

Just—a heavy hand on her shoulder. Her phone in her hand. Chloe not responding to her call. A hand on her leg, maybe. Her own hand?

No—another hand. A male’s hand. Kind eyes. Suspicious eyes?

She has no idea.

She retches again though nothing escapes her. Her stomach coils unpleasantly and she remains bent over the toilet, too afraid to even check between her legs for fear of what she might find.

_You have to check. You have to, Beca._

She should go to the police. She should go to the hospital.

She should call Chloe. Chloe would know what to do.

The thought makes her recoil. She can’t fucking _call_ Chloe.

Not for this.

As if _that_ is the thought that kicks her into action, Beca rushes from the bathroom after rinsing her mouth hastily. Beca haphazardly goes through the hotel room for any clues as to what could have possibly happened. She turns over the sheets and the bedspread, looking for anything—a condom wrapper, a used condom, hell, even his wallet or _anything_. She finds nothing, not even in the bathroom trash.

She sinks onto the bed, head in her hands. She isn’t sure if that’s worse or better. On the floor near her feet, her pants and underwear sit, rumpled in a small pile, like Beca had been too lazy to fully change into pajamas before falling asleep.

That seems possible, though a little ridiculous.

She knows what she must do, as a precaution, but she has no idea if the ache she feels between her legs is for a real reason or her own head inserting phantom pains into her body against her will.

Her phone buzzes from the bedside table. She picks it up and unlocks it, noticing that she had been in the middle of composing some kind of half-assed text message to Chloe before she placed it there. Or somebody placed her phone there.

She exits out of Chloe’s chat and quickly opens the text from Theo.

 _**Theo  
** _ _Remember, meet and greet at the record store later this afternoon before your show tonight._

 _**Beca  
** _ _great_

She has a half a mind to ask him to cancel everything for the day, fans be damned. Apart from her brief vomiting spell, she feels relatively okay, so she supposes it would be irresponsible to cancel. But she wants nothing more than to curl up in bed—maybe another bed—and call Chloe so they can face time and she can feel like everything is okay.

She also kind of just wants to ask Theo to run to the store for her, but she doesn’t want any of the associated questions he might fire at her. She also doesn’t want to deal with any potential publicity fallout or paparazzi hounding her _or_ Chloe when she returns to her life in Los Angeles.

Beca worries her lip between her teeth, tearing a little at the loose skin she finds.

She enters in a search for _pharmacy_ , leg shaking all the while.

* * * * *

She can't go to the cops. She can't go to the hospital. She can't even talk to Chloe.

Or she could do all those things. She could. 

She isn't ready.

* * * * *

Over the next couple of days, her contact with Chloe increases with steady frequency through texts and short and sweet voicemails.

It is easier playing phone tag with Chloe in this way than actually conversing with her over the phone where she can hear every last nuance in Chloe’s voice.

She has only a couple more weeks until the tour is over and she can head back to Los Angeles. She can feel every last one of the miles between New York and Los Angeles at the moment. More specifically every last mile between her and Chloe.

“Beca? You want to go out for some drinks with the group?” It is Theo. He stands above her, eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”

She shakes her head, clearing some of the lingering thoughts. “Yeah. Yeah, no. I’m just…” She holds up her phone. “I think I’m just gonna call Chloe.”

“Ah.” He smirks at her. “The missus. Can’t keep her waiting.”

Beca attempts a smirk back or even a smile, but her heart sinks knowing that she had kept Chloe waiting. Multiples times. Too many times.

“Well,” Theo says as he shrugs on his jacket. “Call me if you need anything. Good job out there tonight, by the way. Your music’s really resonating.”

That brings a smile to Beca’s face, somewhat. “That’s why I do it.”

Once Theo leaves, Beca taps on Chloe’s contact and waits with bated breath.

“Hello?”

Beca inhales. “Chlo. Hi.” Her throat nearly closes entirely. “It’s so...your voice,” she murmurs. “Hi.”

Chloe laughs, a little shakily, but a laugh nonetheless. “Hi baby. It’s late. How are you doing?”

“Oh! It’s not that late,” Beca rushes to assure Chloe. “I’m just...I wanted to talk to you for a bit. Is that okay?”

“Beca,” Chloe starts. “Of course it’s okay. I want to talk to you, too. I’m sorry things were weird. I miss you.”

* * * * *

_The first time Chloe tells her she loves her isn’t even anything totally special. It is at the end of Beca’s freshman year._

_Beca tries to scowl. She really does. When Chloe turns to face her with a triumphant smile, she also hands her a solo cup filled with Boone’s Farm._

_“Full circle, huh?”_

_Beca tilts the cup at Chloe. “I guess so.”_

_Chloe, who looks like she has already indulged, tugs Beca close by the arm. “I love you, you know that right? You're awesome.”_

_Beca grins, pleased. She is getting used to the whole receiving affection from other people thing. It is nice, seeing how free Chloe is with her emotions._

_The first time Chloe tells her she loves her—that she’s in love with her—they are lying together in Chloe’s bed, cuddling after a breathtaking round of sex. It is years after that first time. Hundreds of times before, Chloe has conveyed her affection and love for Beca, but Beca knows this time is different. They both know. Chloe sounds tired. Sleepy, even._

_Beca loves the curve of Chloe’s lips as she says it, the softest “I love you” Beca has ever heard in her life. Chloe smiles around her words, like saying it—like conveying her love for Beca—makes her the happiest person in the world._

_Beca can relate to this joy; she can partake in the happiness too. It is so easy to tell Chloe she loves her too._

* * * * *

“Any parting words before we head back to the West Coast?”

Beca sighs, fiddling with her phone. She is glad Theo can’t see the redness in her eyes or the bags under her eyes because of the oversized sunglasses she has on her face. She hesitates, inhaling sharply.

Theo stops, one foot already out the door of their town car. He slides back into the car, concern all over his face. “What is it?” he asks. “Did you need something?”

“It...you can’t...you can’t tell anybody, okay?”

“Of course,” he responds immediately. “I mean. I do work for you, pretty much.”

“No, man. This is serious.” She faces him. “Please,” she begs.

“Okay.” He nods at her to continue, pulling the door securely shut.

“I...I need a recommendation for a therapist. Or somebody I can talk to...professionally. And I’m only asking you because I know you’ve worked with people before who have...needed similar help.”

He says nothing for a moment, mulling over her words. Finally, he sighs. “Beca. Did something happen recently? I didn’t want to say anything because—”

“No,” Beca exclaims quickly. “No, just. I need this, okay? I…” She swallows, knowing that she can’t tell him what happened. Or what she thinks happened. It’s too much, too soon. She hasn’t even told _Chloe._ “And I know you’ll be discreet about it,” she adds pointedly. “Please. I’m asking you as a friend, first. But don’t think I won’t pull the boss card.”

“Okay, okay. Hey. It’s okay. I’ll get you in contact with some people. You can figure out who works best for you.”

“And please...don’t ask me any questions. I can’t...talk about it right now.”

“Beca, you know you can...take a break, right? We wouldn’t—”

He sounds so much like Chloe in that moment that Beca tunes him out immediately.

* * * * *

The other shoe finally drops about two and a half weeks later. Beca is tired from running between work, home, and therapy—the latest addition to her life. Still, sitting comfortably across from Chloe at their cozy kitchen table, eating overpriced sandwiches brings Beca a small measure of comfort.

Chloe is quiet as she eats her lunch slowly and silently. She hadn’t done more than kiss Beca on the lips briefly when she had returned with their lunch, both of them moving fairly automatically towards the kitchen. Beca is grateful for the quiet. It soothes the haggard emotions swirling through her.

It takes a few more moments. “You were gone for two months on tour,” Chloe informs her quietly. Beca isn’t expecting that so she nods noncommittally and continues nibbling at her sandwich without making eye contact with her girlfriend. It doesn’t sound so much like an invitation to a conversation and Beca is fairly exhausted so she opts to wait for Chloe to say something instead.

“Beca,” Chloe calls, pulling her attention back. “Can we talk about that?”

Beca glances up, wondering if Chloe _knows_ —wondering if Chloe can see it written all over her, as intuitive as she is.

“I...okay,” Beca agrees. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Is...is everything okay between us?” Chloe asks.

It isn’t quite the question Beca expects but she nods immediately. “Yeah, of course.” She reaches out to grab Chloe’s hand, forcing herself to smile through the contact. “I love you,” she says quickly, wondering if she had said that to Chloe recently. Her chest seizes at the thought of Chloe doubting that for a moment. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been so out of it, it’s just...work…”

“Beca,” Chloe urges softly. “Beca, baby, I love you too. But...something’s been so off since you got back. Do you want to talk about it?”

Beca pulls her hand away, staring back at her plate. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired, Chlo.”

Chloe sighs, inhaling shakily as she does so. When she speaks again, the waver in her voice with the accompanying words forces Beca to look up with alarm in her eyes.

“Did you meet somebody else?”

It is a testament to Chloe’s personality and how much she cares for Beca and _knows_ Beca that she doesn’t use damning terms or accusations. Beca’s heart lurches that Chloe would have even _thought_ that, however, and she stumbles over herself verbally to correct Chloe’s train of thought.

“No,” Beca says quickly, voice rising marginally. “God, no, I—why would—” that, however, she cannot finish because she knows instinctively _why_. She had been distant emotionally and physically since she got back from the tour. She had barely been engaging in their usual physical affection. She had barely been engaging in Chloe’s favorite form of affection—slow, languid make-out sessions which normally would have had Beca going at any given moment. It had been difficult to fathom the sensation of Chloe’s hands on her body.

The worst of it all: she had barely been able to stay too long in Chloe’s arms as they fell asleep together because the sensation, once warm and comforting, only made Beca feel like she was suffocating. “There’s nobody else,” Beca finally responds, pushing her plate away from her. “I wish you didn’t ask that.”

She isn’t angry. She is just so incredibly sad.

Chloe folds her hands in her lap, looking down at the table as well. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, sounding as defeated as Beca feels. “I just...I don’t want to…” Chloe struggles for words as she looks anywhere but right at Beca. “If I’m holding you back or…”

Beca gasps, shaking her head quickly. “No, you’ve never held me back,” she corrects immediately. “ _Never_ , Chloe. It’s me. I’ve been...there’s just been something—”

“Then talk to me!” Chloe cries. “Beca, I’m so worried about you! You’ve been drinking more, you barely talk to me, and you—you can’t even kiss me without—”

Beca stands, pushing away from the table abruptly. Chloe clamps her mouth shut, staring up at Beca with wide, distressed eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Beca offers. “There isn’t anybody else.”

“Beca, that’s not…” Chloe stands too, rounding the table to reach for Beca’s hands. “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset. I want to help you, baby. Please.”

“There isn’t anybody else,” Beca repeats, feeling numb even though she warms from the point at which Chloe is holding her hands.

“Okay,” Chloe murmurs. “I believe you. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you,” Beca tries. “I love you so much and I—” she clamps her mouth shut, pleading with Chloe with just her eyes: _can you just hear what I can’t say aloud? Please?_

“I love you, too,” Chloe replies, pulling Beca in for a hug. “We’ll get through whatever this is. I promise. I know that life has been so crazy lately. Just let me hold you for a moment.”

“Okay.”

Beca lets out a breath she had been holding, feeling some tension escape her, finally, as Chloe’s arms encircle her. She trembles, but only slightly. It feels like the gentlest of waves lapping against the shore.

* * * * *

_Chloe has been staying over often enough that it makes the idea seem less and less ridiculous to Beca. It’s just that she’s not used to this—any of this. Falling so fast and so hard for Chloe had never been in her plans, though if she’s being honest it hadn’t been fast at all. Not the way Chloe tells it anyway._

_Beca smiles to herself as she puts the finishing touches on the dinner she has prepared for Chloe. Dinner, check. Symbolic cleared-out dresser, check. Cleared-out bathroom space for Chloe’s products, check._

_She’s about 99.99% sure that Chloe will say yes because this is, first of all, the exact kind of domesticity that Chloe loves. And second of all, because this feels absolutely right and perfect._

_She wants to live with Chloe and maybe for the rest of their life, if Chloe will have her._

_“I’m home!” Chloe’s voice is chipper and bright as the front door slams behind her. Right. Beca didn’t even need to have a spare key made. That was already done._

_She daydreams for the briefest of moments of what it would be like to have Chloe saying that to her for the rest of their time together—and to truly mean it._

_Chloe coming home to her, that’s all Beca wants and she’s never going to let it go again._

* * * * *

“Beca? Where did you disappear off to just now?”

Beca meets her therapist’s eyes guiltily. “Sorry,” she murmurs in apology. “I was just…” she clears her throat, blushing. “Thinking about Chloe.”

“How have things been with the two of you? Have you thought about what you want to say to her?”

“No,” Beca responds shortly. “No, I just…” she sighs, running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. You might not always have the words right away.”

“It’s...every time I come home to her, I take one look at her,” Beca rasps. “And it’s just…” she feels like crying again. “And all I can think about is that I cheated on her. Or I probably did, anyway.”

“Beca...you didn’t cheat on her.” The soothing voice of her therapist washes over her and she glances up with some hope in her gaze. “We talked about this last week, remember?”

“I know. But it feels so much like I did.”

“It’s guilt and trauma. These are all the things you’re feeling because of what happened to you.”

_And what happened to you?_

“Right,” Beca whispers, hastily wiping away her tears. She can’t quite remember the last time she fully _cried_ so many times in front of one person. Not even Chloe. Not even her own parents.

“Do you want to talk about Chloe for a little? She has understandably been on your mind a lot, especially recently.”

“I’m just scared of...of what she’ll think of me.”

“What do you think she’ll say?”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t want her to be upset with me.”

“Do you think she’ll be upset with you? Or upset with what happened to you?”

“She won’t be upset with me,” Beca admits slowly, recalling Chloe’s tendency to become protective and defensive very quickly. “That’s not like her. She will be upset though. I don’t like seeing her upset and I feel like she has been upset a lot recently.”

“Do you know why?”

Beca’s face reddens. “Um...just. I guess. I’ve been less...physical with her.”

“And she got upset with you for that?”

“No,” Beca answers immediately because she knows Chloe would never get upset with her for _that_ reason. “No. Well. I guess she was kind of sad because it’s uh. It’s been a while. And I miss it too. But I just feel like I need to talk to her about everything first and it’s been hard figuring out what to say.” Beca doesn’t add that _she’s_ the one who feels sad and lost, now that an important part of their relationship is on the rocks as well. Physicality had been something that Beca wasn’t the biggest fan of...before Chloe, that is.

“Is that all?”

Beca pauses.

_Beca sinks back against the couch, head resting against the armrest as she does so. Chloe’s lips trail up and down her jaw and neck. There is a touch of urgency in Chloe’s movements, like she absolutely needs to have Beca right then and there. To the side, their unwatched Netflix queue sits, flickering innocently in the darkness of the living room._

_Chloe’s lips feel good against her skin and she knows Chloe is leaving a mark which immediately makes her body heat in anticipation. Beca sighs breathlessly, arching up into Chloe’s body as she does so. She can do this. Chloe will make her feel good and everything else will feel like a bad dream._

_As Chloe’s weight presses more firmly on top of her, Beca’s breathing quickens. She clutches at Chloe’s back, gasping just as Chloe nips along her neck again. Chloe then switches course and presses a deep, wanting kiss to Beca’s lips, stealing another breath from her as she does so._

_“I missed you so much,” Chloe whispers against Beca’s mouth._

_“Hm,” Beca moans softly. “Yeah—yeah, me too,” she mumbles, attempting to match Chloe kiss-for-kiss. She arches up again, attempting to dislodge some of the tension building in her chest. Chloe’s weight isn’t...uncomfortable. It is familiar. Soft. Warm._

_Chloe’s hand grabs her thigh._

_Beca’s eyes fly open and she pushes at Chloe’s shoulder, nearly dislodging Chloe off the couch completely and onto the floor._

_Beca gapes at Chloe who stares back incredulously at her._

_“Um. Food poisoning,” Beca says quickly, darting off the couch, clutching her stomach as she does so for authenticity. She thinks Chloe calls after her, but she rushes into the master bathroom and locks herself in it, attempting to steady her breathing._

_A few moments later, Chloe knocks on the door softly, letting her know in a gentle voice that she is going to run to the store to grab some medicine and Gatorade._

_Beca finally breathes._

Beca blinks, looking back up at her therapist guiltily as she knows she is about to lie during a session. “Yes,” she mumbles. “That’s all.”

* * * * *

When Beca gets home that evening, Chloe isn’t home yet. Beca, relieved, goes about cooking a decent meal in hopes of brightening Chloe’s spirits. She wants to try and figure out how to begin talking to Chloe about what happened to her, especially since their relationship hangs in a precarious balance. The nightmares aren’t quite unmanageable and Beca hasn’t woken Chloe up once, but she doesn’t want the questions to start if the nightmares get worse.

The front door clicks quietly. Beca turns as Chloe enters the kitchen, surprise on her face.

“You’re home,” Chloe observes quietly.

“I am.” Beca clears her throat. “You didn’t say _I’m home_ when you came in,” she says as lightly as she can even though it feels like a punch to her already deteriorating spirit; even though Beca’s heart breaks a little at the hesitation on Chloe’s face.

It is only for a moment, however, because Chloe’s face clears. She smiles so tenderly and lovingly at Beca as she nears, dropping her bag on the floor as she goes. Soon enough she is standing right in front of Beca, happy to just be in the same space again.

Beca reaches up, pulling Chloe in for a soft, deep kiss even though her heart pounds.

“You’re making dinner,” Chloe comments. “So domestic of you.” She wraps her arms loosely around Beca’s waist as Beca turns back to the stove.

“Only for you.”

Chloe’s quiet giggle is sweeter and more melodic than any music Beca could have ever hoped to make.

* * * * *

Sometimes Beca finds herself sleeping peacefully through the night.

Sometimes she barely sleeps at all.

She is trapped, more often than not, by the confines of her own mind, tossing and turning all night until she wakes. Often, she is too afraid to wake Chloe up as well, so she ends up passing out in her small office room, headphones on and a nondescript beat floating through her ears.

Often, Chloe has already prepared a cup of coffee for her and breakfast by the time she wakes up, a crick in her neck and ache in her back. Often, Chloe has already left for work or class, but Beca will trace the edge of the mug fondly, wishing things could be different.

* * * * *

She has a dream that feels so much like a reality. Nightmare is more apt. It makes her wake up in a cold sweat. She can hear _his_ voice, as clear as day, talking in her ear. He mentions Chloe’s name. Once or twice. Had Beca even mentioned Chloe at all that night? Had he known where Chloe lived? Had he known more than necessary about Chloe’s life?

The cold sweat is due to the very real sensation of his hand on her thigh again and the dark echo of his laugh right against the side of her head. She hadn’t been able to move, feeling his presence right in the same bed she shares with the love of her life.

She wakes, knowing that she would die for Chloe.

Which is. Okay. It’s a little dramatic. But once she gets her heartbeat to slowdown and she realizes she didn’t actually wake Chloe up, she settles back down, opting instead to watch the rise and fall of Chloe’s chest as she sleeps.

_You have to tell her._

The voice in her head is more certain and more firm than ever before. It sounds like the strangest mix of her own voice, Chloe’s voice, and her mother’s voice. Maybe a little bit of Aubrey Posen too.

_I’m not strong enough._

_You are._

Beca shifts closer to Chloe, resting her head just at the edge of Chloe’s shoulder. She figures she can catch a few more hours of sleep before they both have to wake up and go about their respective days.

* * * * *

Beca sits on the couch, waiting for Chloe to return home. She cut her recording session short earlier, highly contemplating whether she ought to take an extended break from music altogether. While she feels fulfilled and invigorated by the new adventures her record deal provides for her, she feels more than ever that the strain of the media, her fans, and the public in general are more damning than helpful.

She wants to focus on her personal life. Herself. Chloe. Their future together. Then she hopes everything can fall into place.

It doesn’t take long for Chloe to return home. She is surprised to see Beca sitting on the couch already, both of them looking a little apprehensive and nervous at the sight of each other.

Beca knows that Chloe has been at the edge of her rope with everything that has happened recently. Chloe’s endless patience and understanding nature has been nothing but an absolute godsend to Beca. She just wishes that it didn’t have to be like this—that she didn’t have horrible news to tell Chloe.

“What’s going on?” Chloe asks, taking off her light jacket. “Why...are you—?”

“Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah, Bec. Of course.” Chloe moves to sit next to Beca on the couch, though Beca notices that she sits a respectable distance away. It makes Beca only feel guiltier and more ashamed of herself.

_It wasn’t your fault._

“I...I cheated on you,” Beca whispers. It comes out faster than she intends, but she doesn’t bother repeating herself. She knows Chloe can hear her perfectly fine. The stillness of Chloe’s body next to her is enough of a giveaway. “I’m sorry.”

“You what?” Chloe asks. Beca hates that she can’t decipher the tone of Chloe’s voice when it used to come so easily to her.

“I…” Beca swallows, trying to find strength from somewhere within her but all she finds is exhaustion and defeat and the remnants of pain. “I’ve been...seeing a therapist since I got back and I—”

“You’ve what?” Chloe asks again, though she is distinctly more worried and more concerned. The sheer amount of concern and pain in Chloe’s voice is enough to make Beca feel like crying all over again, but she had done enough of it on the drive back to their home. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She takes a steadying breath, looking up at their surroundings. The beautiful living room filled with photos and their possessions. Things they share together. Things they bought together. Their entire _life_ together.

The mantra she has been repeating to herself over the past few weeks solidifies once more. _You have to tell her, Beca._

_When you’re ready._

_You’re ready._

She looks back to Chloe, eyes spilling over the moment she sees nothing but care and love in Chloe’s eyes.

“Beca,” Chloe whispers, moving closer. “Beca, please, you’re scaring me. Talk to me. What is this all about?”

“Someone had sex with me,” Beca says slowly, testing the words out on her tongue. It doesn’t quite feel right but she can’t bring herself to form other words that would be more fitting. Her mouth feels heavy. Immobile. “I cheated on you,” she repeats, finding that easier to say. It feels like something she has practiced. Something she can believe in.

Chloe’s brow furrows as tears well up in her own eyes. The word choice is not lost on her and Beca senses the immediate change in Chloe’s posture. Chloe is tense. Protective, almost, as she angles her body towards Beca. “Bec, I don’t understand what you’re…” Chloe reaches out slowly, tentatively resting a hand on Beca’s knee. It is then that the distance between them becomes even more evident to Beca and she inhales shakily, swiping at her tears before moving away from Chloe’s touch. She hears Chloe’s own shaky, sharp inhale like realization is dawning upon her, but unlike the kind of realization that dawns like sunshine, it is the worst kind.

“I...okay.” Beca rubs her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Remember when we had that fight,” Beca begins, speaking slowly to start. _I can do this._ “And then I tried to call you but it was late. While I was on tour,” she prompts when Chloe says nothing.

Chloe takes a moment to respond, likely remembering their fight in vivid detail. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “But Beca, what—”

“I was so fucking sad, Chloe. I was upset about hurting you.”

“Beca,” Chloe interrupts. “It wasn’t—”

“I need to finish,” Beca pleads quietly. She looks up at Chloe desperately. “Please.”

Chloe nods, though her eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

“I went out that night. Or the night after.” Beca frowns, shaking her head as the memory becomes jumbled again. She had _just_ gone through this earlier, but it had felt so much easier to talk about it with somebody who was so clinically detached from her. This is _Chloe_. “I went out and I had...I already had a lot to drink and I…there was this guy.” Her voice cracks as she rushes to finish the story. “I’m sorry, I wanted to call you and this guy brought me back to the hotel. I thought he was just helping and I think—I think I kept saying that I wanted to call you but I ended up falling asleep or something and when I woke up, I didn’t…I’m sorry,” she whispers, rushing to apologize hastily. Her throat tenses as she struggles to swallow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, Chlo.”

“Beca,” Chloe whimpers, sounding like she is fully crying now but Beca can’t bring herself to look at Chloe, lest she see the hurt she put there again. “It wasn’t your fault, Beca.”

_It wasn’t your fault, Beca._

“I...I shouldn’t have let him walk me back to the hotel. Or like. I guess I shouldn’t have gone out without somebody else. It was a nice place near the hotel and I just...I don’t know what happened,” Beca admits, finding some solace for the first time since she sat down next to Chloe on the couch. Their couch. She finds solace in the honesty of that: that she didn’t know what happened. She still doesn’t. “I don’t remember if I kissed him or…”

Chloe continues to cry, soft sobs echoing around their living room. She shifts, then stands. Beca is so sure then that Chloe will leave her.

This is it.

This is the moment she had been so afraid of. She had been afraid of this moment since she _realized_ her feelings for Chloe. All those years ago. She had been afraid of this moment since they agreed to start dating; she had been afraid of this moment since she had woken up cold, alone, and in pain in that hotel room.

Chloe has all the power in the world to leave her.

“Don’t leave me,” Beca murmurs, summoning the last reserves of strength she has left within her. “Please,” she begs.

_I didn’t mean to hurt you._

Chloe does not leave.

Chloe moves towards her, standing in front of her. Beca keeps her gaze down, staring at the top of Chloe’s socks, mismatched as usual whenever they spend time at home on the weekend. Mismatched because Chloe can’t be bothered to match socks once they are deemed missing. Mismatched because they’re such a hallmark of who Chloe is as a person—this is something that Beca has only come to learn about Chloe because of their relationship. Their friendship. Their love.

“Please,” Beca echoes, though it is barely more than a whisper. It is simply air that passes her lips because Chloe’s arms immediately come around her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pressing Beca’s head gently into her stomach where she cradles her safely and securely.

Chloe says nothing and continues to hold her. Beca buries her face into the fabric of Chloe’s sweater, taking comfort in the soft smell of Chloe’s perfume and detergent. The sweater, worn out from overuse, is soft and only slightly scratchy against Beca’s skin. It prickles the back of her eyelids as she discreetly rubs her tears away. Chloe’s hands comb into her hair shakily, one stroke after another. Beca feels a tremble rush through Chloe’s body and she realizes that Chloe is crying too.

Quickly, she draws back, gazing up at her girlfriend with desperate eyes. “I’m sorry,” she tries again because it feels like the only thing she can say.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Chloe responds immediately. “Please, Beca. I love you so much. I’m sorry,” she cries, eyes spilling over again as she looks down at her. Quickly, she drops to her knees in front of Beca, moving her hands to Beca’s waist gently. “I’m sorry that you’ve been going through this alone.” Chloe lets out another sob and moves to wipe her tears away. “I’m sorry for crying so much. I want to help you, baby. Please, just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Don’t leave me,” Beca says because it’s the first thing on her mind.

Hurt flashes through Chloe’s eyes. “I won’t ever leave you, Beca. You know that.”

“I hurt you,” Beca explains in a small voice. “I know I did.”

“Not because of this. Never because of _this_. We fought about all that other stuff, but we were always going to work on that. That’s okay.” Chloe’s crying ramps up again. Beca pulls Chloe against her for an awkward hug, pressing Chloe’s head against her chest. “It’s okay,” Chloe repeats, muffled against Beca’s shirt. “We’re okay. We will be okay. I love you so much. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Beca shudders, gazing ahead at their television set. It sits, silent and mocking, as she can almost see her reflection in the screen. Just barely. She tightens her hold around Chloe, grounding herself in the solid weight of Chloe’s body pressed against her and the honesty and sincerity in Chloe’s words.

She knows Chloe will have more questions and she knows that they have a lot more to work through, but Beca is content to stay in this moment for now.

_We will be okay._

_I will be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://darby-carter.tumblr.com/).


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